Flying Sparks and Captain Snark
by KimicThranduilion
Summary: Legolas' suffers a brief wobble in confidence in the face of an exasperated Captain. His friend, fellow new recruit Faervel, may or may not be of help. Loosely related to Noss Haew – Family Customs.


**A/N: So the final of my three-for-thirty birthday celebration fics. This one is based off a prompt and was actually written way back in 2015 when I first started writing! I just never got round to tidying it up and publishing it. Hope you enjoy :)**

**Prompt:** Small fire! I said to start a small fire!

**Rating:** G

**Setting: **Legolas' first tour of the perilous Southern Patrol; he is a freshly graduated warrior

**Characters:** Legolas, Captain Gurdir (OC), Lord Faervel (OC)

**Summary: **Legolas' suffers a brief wobble in confidence in the face of an exasperated Captain. His friend, fellow new recruit Faervel may or may not be of help.

"A small fire – I said start a _small_ fire." Captain Gurdir was hissing at him.

Legolas bit back a sigh; it was hardly his fault that the fire had gotten a bit out of hand, he had tried to contain it and keep it small but the damned thing seemed hell bent on becoming ever larger.

"Are you trying to bring down all of the Dark One's minions upon us Legolas? Have you forgotten where we are?"

"No Captain I have not."

Indeed, how could he? They were in the darkest and most gloomy part of the Kingdom – the southernmost part of Mirkwood. Way down past the Mountains of Mirkwood, the Old Forest Road and even Rhosgobel and they had made camp in a clearing in an area called the Narrows of the Forest. For Legolas was currently on his first tour of the Southern Patrol – one of the most deadly and perilous patrols the warriors of the Woodland Realm ever embarked upon.

Sparks flew up into the gloomy afternoon sky as Captain Gurdir kicked a shower of damp earth onto Legolas' fire leaving it sputtering and dying.

"Do it again and this time try not to let it get as big as a beacon for _Elbereth's_ sake."

"_Le-thel Hest_ Gurdir" Legolas dipped his head and finished smothering his fire.

His shoulders slumped ever so slightly – so far he was not making a good impression on his Captain and fellow warriors. Both Rithel and Thranduil had warned him that this would be his hardest patrol yet but he had still been so sure he would take everything in his stride – alas here he was struggling to get a small fire going for their camp. He knew how to make a fire – both big and small – but today, today the flames were determined to undermine him.

Legolas kneeled again and grabbed his flint and was about to try once more when a small shove nearly sent him to the ground face first. Legolas looked up irate and ready to have words with whoever had just pushed him when Faervel's smiling face came into view.

Legolas relaxed, "Was that necessary _mellon-nin_ – I'm having a hard enough time as it is."

Faervel laughed, a soft tinkling sound, "Sorry Las you just looked so defeated then I thought I'd give you a little nudge out of your slump." Faervel grinned widely at him.

"And you felt the best way to do this was to shove my face down into the dirt?" Legolas raised a golden eyebrow at him.

"Yes, for if you are already down in the dirt then the only way left to go is up," Faervel laughed and danced out of the way of the stick Legolas jabbed at his legs.

"You are a terrible friend and a bad influence. Go, lest you get me in more trouble with the Captain."

"Fine _mellon-nin,_ but a small tip for you as you seem to have forgotten – the size of your fire pit has bearing on the size of your fire."

Before Legolas could utter a word a cold voice made them both flinch much to their chagrin.

"_Hir-nin_ Faervel since you are ever so keen to help our Prince here you will not mind being on cleaning duties with him for the remainder of the week will you?"

Faervel and Legolas stole quick glances at each other before they turned to look at their Captain. They'd quickly learnt that trouble was on the horizon when Captain Gurdir referred to them by their formal titles. Faervel made as if to speak but the Captain held out his hand to silence him.

"No, I want to hear nothing from either of you – Legolas I want that fire in five minutes or may _Manwë_ himself help you and Faervel oh-master-of-flames go and start collecting dry timber – enough for this week's fires. Move now both of you."

Legolas watched with mild amusement as his dark-haired friend skipped off quickly to grab his weapons and go to do Gurdir's bidding.

"_Tithen Ernil_ you have four minutes left – I'd suggest you stop gaping after your friend and get busy with the fire," was the gruff rebuke as the Captain stomped off.

Legolas schooled his face into a blank mask and resisted the frustrated sigh he wanted to give – he was pretty sure _Hest _Gurdir disliked him even more than he did the average recruit as he was Prince. Deciding there was nothing he could do about that Legolas followed Faervel's advice and dug out a small shallow fire pit. Satisfied he added his tinder and using his flint he watched as the fire slowly crackled to life. It was small and looked like it intended on staying that way too – _Elbereth _be praised.

Legolas fed the fire a little more wanting to get it burning merrily before Captain Gurdir made a re-appearance. He watched as the small sparks glowed and twinkled hot red against the ever darkening sky – the tiny specks adding colour and beauty to an otherwise dreary place.

Smack!

Captain Gurdir clapped Legolas heartily on the back and the Prince barely suppressed a wince.

"Finally! This is what I wanted all along – do not make me wait forty _yéni_ next time." The Captain grinned at Legolas, "now quickly go and see if any help is needed for this evening's meal."

"Yes sir," Legolas nodded and went off to do Gurdir's bidding but not before sneaking one more proud look at his fire.

It was but a small thing but it gave the Prince confidence – he'd get through this Southern Patrol yet - dangerous fauna, un-cooperative fires, shouty Captains and all.

**END.**

Le-thel – I will

Hest – Captain

Mellon-nin - My friend

Tithen – Little

Ernil – Prince

Yéni – (Quenya) Elvish measure of time equalling 144 years. Plural of yén.

** Prompt Credit: promptuarium . wordpress . com


End file.
